


why were you digging? (what did you bury?)

by Anonymous



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Temporary Character Death, fanfic of a fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Aye, the sea be a cruel mistress indeed. What she gives, she takes away.or, what does the end mean when you're not there with me?
Relationships: Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Anonymous





	why were you digging? (what did you bury?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SorryJustAnotherPerson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorryJustAnotherPerson/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Captain J. Couffaine and the Sea of the Dead](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25921123) by [SorryJustAnotherPerson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorryJustAnotherPerson/pseuds/SorryJustAnotherPerson). 



> hey there, nox here! been busy, been sad, yknow how it is, so havent had much motivation to write really but im starting to get into the swing of things again. im still struggling and fucked up, but itll get better. its about the baby steps.
> 
> anyway enough about the boring personal shit, this fic kept changing as i was writing until i forgot what i originally set out to do with it. its sadder and angstier than my last piece for this au, but stick with me, theres always gonna be a happy ending. thanks to [SorryJustAnotherPerson ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorryJustAnotherPerson/pseuds/SorryJustAnotherPerson)for creating this wonderful au and letting me write this. i hope you enjoy it.

The sky was heavy and gray, opaque white sea mist clinging vehemently to every surface. It seemed the very heavens were just as low in their spirits as the occupants of the Liberty.

Rose sighed, small and high, though the fog was much too strong to be moved by her feeble breaths. She tried to push her thoughts aside, to quiet them so that she might find some peace, but they only latched on tighter, clinging like the stubborn mists. The wooden creaking and sway of the ship normally was a gentle lullaby, a sweet and liberating song that would normally put her at ease. Yet the melody was all wrong. It was lackluster and discordant without a certain integral instrument and as much as she wished to ignore it all, her mind kept plucking at the broken strings.

Juleka was dead.

The nigh-invincible Pirate Queen, the Ashen Tiger, Captain Juleka Couffaine—dead. Her wife, her sweet Juleka, with a soul warmer than any fire despite her hardened skin, a true diamond in the rough.

Gone.

It was unfathomable, she couldn’t truly process it all. But how else could she feel, when she could still smell gunpowder, smoke, and sea salt like Juleka was there? When her tongue lingered with the taste of her wife, her lips tingling with the sensation of her kiss. It hadn’t been long since she sent Juleka off with a kiss, as landbound wives were wont to do to their seaward spouses. 

Hadn’t it just been days ago? On the eve of the final assault, she bid her love good luck and they spent their last night together. She could still feel the warmth of her embrace, the feeling of rough, calloused hands on her skin, a symbol of a life full of hardships and tragedies she couldn’t understand (but by the gods did she try, she wanted to understand it all, wanted to comfort and help and be there for it all). 

Her hands were empty now, holding nothing but her own, a terrible omen of how the rest of her life would be spent. 

Something nudged her hand. Having no will or desire to move, she merely flicked her eyes to Roarr, who looked up at her with dull amber eyes. His eyes were not searching for a reason, there was no question in his eyes. He knew just as deeply as she did why Juleka was not present. Unable to look at the sadness in his eyes that reflected her own, she lifted a trembling hand to his head and stroked him, hoping the motion soothed him. His eyes squinted, happy for the attention but Rose knew it would only placate him for so long. It seemed both of them would need to learn Juleka would not return to them. Her hand stalled at the thought. Roarr growled softly, displeased, his eyes staring at her when she didn’t resume. Her hand fell to her side, limp. How she lacked the energy for even the easiest of tasks. He laid his head onto her lap and she found herself away from the rocking ship amid the misty seas.

She was trapped under the influence of grief, a terrible, terrible monster. It sapped away her energy, bowed her spine, and lowered her shoulders. It was a tangible feeling that weighed more than the world, more than her crown ever did. It was a shroud of all the love she gave to Juleka and all the love she received in turn, heavy and dark now that Juleka was dead. 

How she wanted to cry about it all, to sob and scream at the ocean until it returned her wife. But she could not, too scared to open her heart up and release the flood of emotions deep inside lest she also lost what little she had of Juleka inside herself. It was best now to sit still and statuesque, to maintain the facade of stability and calm on the restless sea. 

Besides, she was not alone in mourning. Who else would she be with but the remaining Liberty crew? It was them who came to her and asked her to join their voyage. It was them who told her of her wife’s fate, something she would never hate them for but oh how she hated the news of it all. How could they have won the war but still lost? It had been a pyrrhic victory, through and through, even if Gabriel Agreste was dead.

She denied it at first. There had been no proof and well, Juleka was cunning and resourceful, she _had_ to be out there. There was no way she had died out there, fighting Agreste, right? Not when she promised, not when they planned to live out their lives on a seaside cottage with just the two of them? She abdicated, abandoned her throne and birthright, a role she wanted no part in for a life of freedom but a life of freedom meant nothing to her when Juleka wasn’t in it. 

A hand touched her shoulder and Rose sluggishly raised her head. Alix Kubdel, Juleka’s first mate and oldest friend, gave her a smile on reflex, a broken and half-hearted thing, which disappeared when Rose gave no response. 

“We’re here,” she said. Rose nodded, mouth dry and tongue immobile. She gently pried Roarr off her lap and stood. He whined unpleasantly and she gave a parting pat. Her legs did not wobble as she did, now well adjusted to life on a ship thanks to—well, you understand. Alix gave her a comforting squeeze before removing her hand. Before she could pull away too far, Rose quickly reached out and took that scarred hand into her own. Alix startled, unprepared for the sudden burst of movement but Rose simply just held onto her hand and squeezed back, looking directly into Alix’s eyes. Her tongue still felt too much like stone and her insides were raw and pink so she could not bear to speak but she wanted to convey some type of comfort to the first mate. The pain inside Alix must have been unbearable. 

It’s not often one would lose one family, gain another, only to lose it all again. (Well, technically, it was just one person and the rest of the found family she had were still around, but that’s the funny thing about grief; it’s all-encompassing, powerful, and blinding.)

Alix’s eyes softened and her mouth quirked up into a small, but genuine thankful smile, the first she’s seen since the first mate arrived in front of her and Juleka’s cottage (or what was supposed to be. Now it just belonged to her). Alix covered Rose’s hands with her other and a small moment of warmth and comfort was shared among the turmoil and anguish. Then, Alix looked behind Rose and her eyes were suddenly alight with mischief and her smile turned into a smirk.

Confused, Rose turned around to see one fuming Chloe Bourgeois. It seemed whatever happened during the final battle also ended up with those two getting together. Realizing the intimacy of their hold and their proximity, Rose quickly let go, even if the brief moment of human contact did help her. She knew fresh love and its jealousy, best stop while they were ahead. Alix mouthed an apology and sauntered off to soothe her lover, Rose watching as they talked. It filled her with a fondness she often had when observing the crew members, as she grew to see them as family. Unfortunately, it was a double-edged feeling, as it served to remind her that her lover was lost. 

It was a cruel and selfish comparison. She should be happy for them and there did exist a part of her that always thrived off seeing the love and happiness of others, but that part was buried deep under mountains of her love-turned-grief and how the fullness of others only served to remind her of how empty she was now. 

Another person touched her, pulling her attention away from the couple.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng also smiled at her, but it was soft and comforting, as expected of the girl with a heart of gold and undying kindness. Rose even managed to smile back, however feeble her attempt was. 

“Hey,” she said quietly like if she spoke any louder it would shatter Rose, “it’s almost time to send her off...are you ready?”

 _No!_ she wanted to scream, _no, I’ll never be ready. How can I ever be ready to say goodbye?_

“Yes,” she responded, voice hoarse and nearly inaudible. 

* * *

What do you do with a fallen sailor?

Bury them in the sea. 

Who would ever give them a grave on land when their bodies and souls belonged to the sea?

That’s what Rose told herself, at least, as she watched the burning embers of the distant boat. It was a small dingy, empty except for the kindling and alcohol-soaked timbers. There had been no body after all. Nothing left behind of Juleka, not even a hair. One moment she had been fighting, leading her loyal crew, and then it was over and she was gone. And as the blazing effigy disappeared into the horizon and mist, she had to accept that Juleka was truly gone.

Something bubbled deep from within her throat, a haggard sob escaping into the silent air. It was dry with grief and heavy with unshed tears. Oh, how she hated it all. The grief twisted from sadness to anger and then defeat until all she could think was how she wished the cloak around her shoulders were bandage covered arms. She wanted to scream into the temperamental waters, rage at them for giving her the best thing in her life only to take it away when it mattered the most. 

She started to hum. She started to sway. And finally, she sang:

_My dearest one, my darling dear_

_Your mighty words astound me_

_But I've no need for mighty deeds_

_When I feel your arms around me_

She spun, stopping against an invisible force, then hugged herself. She shuddered, drawing in a shaky breath, then danced by herself. She imagined a ghost leading her through the steps.

_I have no use for rings of gold_

_I care not for your poetry_

_I only want your hand to hold_

_I only want you near me_

She reached for a hand that did not exist, stumbling as she had to adjust. With another heaving breath, she switched her hold, both leading and following her ghost. 

_To love and kiss to sweetly hold_

_For the dancing and the dreaming_

_Through all life's sorrows_

_And delights_

_I'll keep your laugh inside me_

Her voice trailed off. The once jovial song she had sung with her wife when they proposed was mired, somber, and wrong. The dance was ugly and haunting. It was all wrong and bad because it was a _duet_. 

Rose was barely able to choke down another sob. She hugged herself tightly, trying to find some semblance of warmth, of Juleka. She pulled her cloak closer, and closer, trying to squeeze her sadness away. She felt hands and arms encircle her and she only burrowed deeper into her heart. None of them were the ones she wanted, the ones she needed. Still, the touch was something sorely needed and she found herself collapsed back into them, staring down at the worn wood of the Liberty’s deck. She watched as tears dripping from her face dotted the wood and as the misty air turned thicker and thicker until the rain poured down from the sky. 

As the rain fell, she allowed her walls to crack, to let grief and love and hurt radiate and flow.

 _“Damn you!”_ she cursed, yelling at the sea. The wind blew, whistling louder and louder. The rain started to pelt against her face and though she was no sailor, she wasn’t a fool. She knew better than to curse the sea when it held her life in its waves. Juleka taught her all about it, sailors and their superstitions. But that’s the thing, _Juleka wasn’t here anymore._

“You brought her to me, you can’t just take her _away!_ We—” she choked, the brewing storm battering against her small body, a reminder of the vast and powerful ocean and she can hear a voice in the back of her mind telling her to _stop, just stop, this won’t bring me back._

 _“We had a plan! We were supposed to grow old together!_ ” she screamed, throat and heart raw. The wind screamed, throwing her curses back and the sea salt sprayed into her eyes. She didn’t care, there were already tears in her eyes and she was already so cold that her shivering barely registered. 

_“Bring her back!”_ she cried, hand stretched out to the dark waters, reaching, reaching, reaching—

Hands pulled her back and she fought against them because there would be no roguish smirk and blazing eyes in their embrace. The person she was searching for was down there and she was willing to throw herself into the depths if it meant Juleka could come back. 

The hands kept pulling her away, until they shoved her into the captain’s quarters and she wanted to _scream_ , this was the last place she wanted to be. She felt the lingering existence of Juleka here too much, could already imagine her disappointed gaze. 

_That was reckless, Princess,_ the phantom said. 

“I just want you here,” she whispered, the storm outside muffled by the door. It was a separate world here, with her too-loud heartbeat pounding in her ears as the wind slapped against the ship. The wood groaned, protesting against the ferocious waters, but in the cabin, it sounded like footsteps, getting louder as the phantom drew closer. 

_I am here, Rose,_ the phantom said. 

“No, you’re not. Not in the way that I need.” She swallowed. Her mouth was bitter and dry, despite the storm she had just been in, despite the tears trailing down her face. “Not in that your crew needs.”

 _I’m sorry,_ the phantom said.

“Just come back to me.”

 _Wait for me,_ the phantom said, said her memories. That’s what Juleka said to her, that day. They were in that secret cove and they were saying _see you later, see you soon._ (It wasn’t supposed to be goodbye, it wasn’t supposed to be _the end._ )

“Wait for me?” Juleka, sweet Juleka asked, with honey gold eyes and a soft smile that barely lifted the corners of the mouth but strong enough to move mountains. Her hand cupped Rose’s face, thumb affectionately stroking her cheek. Rose held that hand with her own and pressed a kiss to her palm. 

“Always,” she had said then because Juleka was supposed to _come back._

The phantom disappeared. Or rather, it faded. She could still feel its presence. It would always be there because her thoughts of Juleka, her memory, her heartache, would make it stay. It stopped talking at least. Rose was glad for it. It was much easier to mourn when the voice of your dead wife wasn’t playing in your head.

* * *

Once the storm had passed, Rose asked the crew to take her home. There were skepticism and concerns but Rose waved them all away. She wanted to be alone for a bit. And maybe being around them reminded her too much of better times. Not like it would help. Ever since she fell in love, she started to see pieces of Juleka in everything. From the sunrise to sunset, to a busy market square to the isolated silence of the cottage, it was all Juleka. She saw her everywhere. She saw Juleka’s tall shadow in the doorways, saw her turning the corner in the halls, saw her across the table in front of the second plate she always set out. 

It was haunting, of course, to live like she had a ghost following her. But what were ghosts? Weren’t they just thoughts of lost loved ones? She’d rather the phantom would never leave if its disappearance meant her thoughts of Juleka ceased. 

She hadn’t thought like that, initially. When she first came—she loathed to call it home, when the person who was her home wasn’t there to make it so—to the cottage, after the funeral, she sat despondently in the main room, listening to the rain drizzle against the walls and windows. It was dark. Cold. Quiet. 

She nearly lost it. There were no traces of Juleka, not yet, but she wanted nothing more than to drag out all the furniture, the clothes, the pieces they were supposed to use together to make it home—drag it out into the ocean and have it take it away, away, and away, just like it did to Juleka. She wanted to set this wooden replacement for a person ablaze. (She cried over the cruelty of that thought later.)

She didn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Because, regardless of Juleka living inside the cottage her not, Juleka lived in her memories, and in those memories, this cottage was meant for both of them. She could never destroy it so callously. 

Besides, she promised she’d wait.

Waiting for someone who’d never come around wasn’t the most healthy coping mechanism. How long until her hope of someone coming to take the empty places she’d set faded into despair? When she couldn’t bear to sleep on one side of the bed because it was too much of a reminder? But, there was hope in the end. Deep inside, behind the grief and hiding from reality, there was a seed of hope. Juleka was still out there, would still come back. It was a farfetched hope, but she held onto it, if just to give her peace of mind. 

She started on that garden she always wanted. Yes, she had grown up seeing a royal garden, with the curated hedges and flowers, meant to dazzle and wow all year, but she wanted to make something real, with fruits and vegetables and all kind of plants; to dig her hands into the dirt and watch as something beautiful grew from it. 

It didn’t dull the sting of loneliness but it felt like healing in a way.

And maybe, that meant something after all. She wanted it to, so it did. The space inside her heart where someone once fit into so perfectly wasn’t going away anytime soon, so she just learned to live with it there. And some days, it stopped hurting too. She still lived like there was someone else there but the phantom stopped haunting her as badly. She stopped seeing her memories so sourly and started seeing the light in them again. It just took three years. 

Her garden was growing into quite the marvelous sight. It was large, probably much larger than what a lone widow should be managing by herself but that was fine. If she spent all the time on her knees, elbow-deep in the dirt, that meant all the less time she had wallowing in grief. Not so much loneliness these days, the Liberty Crew made sure to visit when they could. She could still see fox tracks from a certain crewmate near her anise. It was nice of them to visit Rose, though she couldn’t but feel a little guilty when they took time from their busy schedules to do so. 

The other reason was her hope. She wouldn’t dare tell them she still lived like there was a chance Juleka would come back. How they would pity her, more than they did now, if they knew. How it would hurt them so, for her to keep wounds open when they wanted, needed to move on. Her hope was best kept to herself, in the end.

The clouds were overcast today, but the promise of rain made her happy, rather than reminding her of the cold that sunk into her body. The rain would help her garden, to which she was tending to currently. It was hard work, something a princess wasn’t accustomed to, but it’s been three years since she’d shed that title. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, feeling the grit dragging across her skin, but instead of recoiling, she relished it. She hummed some long-forgotten song, a duet of sorts, to herself. 

A twig snapped beyond the edge of the clearing and while one hand brandished her spade, the other hand reached for a dagger, a gift, and a promise she kept sharp and deadly. Herein a Rose laid in her garden and they would soon meet her Thorn. She heard the footsteps tromping over the ground, the floor crunching softly beneath their footsteps. With bated breath, she waited, standing to the best of her full height, watching for the person who dared visit from the unknown woods. 

A warm, honey gold and ember soft eye met her, a black hat and bandages covering most of the person’s face. Rose froze, feeling helpless in the tide that threatened to bowl her over. Her hand gripped her dagger in a vice, the cold metal familiar and grounding while she dropped her spade in surprise.

Captain Juleka Couffaine smiled, sheepish at the edges and apologetic in full, with her eye gazing at her wife like she was a balm to an aching burn. Neither moved nor spoke. The world chattered around them, unknowing and uncaring of the plight of humans. The sky grew darker and the winds blew, blustery and full of salt. 

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” The voice, the very one who chased her dreams like a growling dog at her heels, filled the clearing to the brim and it spilled, everything spilled over. Possessed by the boldness of a not-dead-dead woman, she marched up to her wife—fury and longing burrowing into each step. Her hands reached up, cupping her face gently, disbelief in each touch. 

Warm. Moving. _Alive._

She laughed, breathless and watery.

“I should say the same to you,” and it was the kiss—it was _that touch_ that truly cemented in the truth. It was hungry and desperate and raw, yet so tender and loving and Rose wanted to cry out to the world with how it finally filled the hole inside her chest where her heart was. It tasted of old and new and salt and dirt. Even after three years, Juleka still smelt of smoke and sea spray. She still smelt like home. 

When they pulled away finally, Juleka’s eye was soft. “You waited,” she said, relieved and surprised in her quiet, hoarse voice. Rose laughed, disbelieving but oh, Juleka was here, she was here and she was _real_.

“Of course.” She tried to wipe off some of the dirt she’d gotten on Juleka’s face, though she ended up smearing more. “You’re a scoundrel for making me wait so long,” she added because as happy as she was to see her wife alive, she was angry too though her tone was still light. “Three years, Juleka, three years I’ve waited. Three years I’ve mourned you. I thought you died, everyone does.” The pirate turned away, guilty, but she did not pull away. Rose wouldn’t let her, couldn’t lose her again.

“I think I did. It’s hard to...remember. That was the price I paid, but I had to do it,” she explained. 

“What?” Juleka cleared her throat. 

“The tiger amulet. I used it. It obscures the fate of the user and people needed to know I was dead because y’know, committing regicide isn’t something I wasn’t going to get away with.” A gust blew by and Rose involuntarily shivered at the chill. With a smooth grace befitting her feline nickname, Juleka slipped her heavy coat off and placed it over Rose. Three years and it had changed, it was more worn and it had more stitched tears than she remembered. But it was still Juleka. 

“But Adrien, he would’ve done something, a pardon or—”

“The people wouldn’t be happy. I didn’t want his reign to deal with that.” Rose bristled.

“So you faked your death without telling anyone!” Juleka nodded, solemn.

“The tiger amulet, its power is obscurity both ways. I’ve spent the past three years with no memory of who I was.” Rose gasped.

“We forgot what happened to you and you forgot who you were.” Juleka smiled, tapping the side of Rose’s head. 

“Yep.” Rose started pulling at Juleka as the rain started to sprinkle. She said nothing as she closed the door, as she all but pushed the pirate (former?) into a chair. The tall, terrifying regicidal captain (also former?) let out a muted _oof!_ which turned into an almost squeak when Rose plopped herself on her lap. They were both facing each other now and Rose could see the blush coloring Juleka’s cheeks. Rose could feel her own flush working its way up, surprised at her own boldness, but cut her some slack, her _missing_ wife finally came home, she’s allowed some boldness. (It was funny and heartwarming in the way such a ‘vicious’ and ‘bloodthirsty’ pirate was reduced to a blushing mess in front of her wife.)

“So...how’d you regain your memories?” She asked after a moment. She was just enjoying the feeling of Juleka against her body again, of home in her bones, of warmth on her skin. Juleka, who had been staring intensely, attempting to memorize Rose by sight alone, took a second to register the question. 

“Oh, uh,” she faltered, “It took time for the amulet’s power to fade. But even when I couldn’t remember my name, I remembered there was something—someone I had to come home to.” Juleka ran her hand through Rose’s hair, having grown longer in the past years. “I woke up on a deserted island alone without a clue of who or where I was. I spent the first year just trying to survive, yearning for that unknown person. The second year I started having dreams. I started to remember my life. By the time I gathered enough to remember you,” she leaned forward to press a kiss to Rose’s lips and Rose leaned back into it and it all ended much too quickly for her liking, “I started to build a boat to find you.” Rose shifted, feeling the hard press of Juleka’s sword and dagger against her legs. 

“At least you had some tools with you,” she said. Juleka shrugged. 

“Better than nothing. It took me the better half of this year getting everything ready. Traveling,” she huffed, “now that was a pain. It was a shitty boat but it was seaworthy with a decent sail and it still took me months to get here. I really don’t wanna think about it.” Rose giggled and if it was a little watery, it was just because of the rain. She pressed herself into the crook of Juleka’s neck and it felt like a puzzle piece sliding into place, it felt _right._

“What matters is you came home,” Rose whispered into her skin. Juleka hugged her tight and close, just the way she wanted all those years ago when she was standing on a misty boat deck. The rough, work-tough hands she wanted were on her now, though they were rougher than they used to be, yet it took nothing away from the fact that this was still Juleka. Just as she was still Rose, though she was lighter without the crown she no longer had to wear. 

“Yeah,” Juleka said softly, 

“I’m home.”

**Author's Note:**

> and that’s the end. i started this back in september. jesus christ. but what matters is that its done and im kinda happy with how it turned out. now imma be real, i dont exactly know how the miraculous stuff works in the universe so i tried to interpret it as best as i could. dont think too hard about the logical parts of this story, i leaned really really hard into the prose. also the happy ending was there, just like i said. i cant bear to write angst without one. 
> 
> this au belongs to SorryJustAnotherPerson, please check out their [Tumblr ](https://justanotherpersonsuniverse.tumblr.com/)and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorryJustAnotherPerson/pseuds/SorryJustAnotherPerson)
> 
> a mini playlist, for those interested in what i listened to get this done:  
> garden song (phoebe bridgers)  
> like real people do (hozier)  
> bones in the ocean (the longest johns)  
> dancing with your ghost (sasha sloan)  
> ribs (lorde)  
> ill cover you reprise (rent movie soundtrack)  
> wait for me reprise (hadestown broadway soundtrack)


End file.
